


Lost in Time

by pastelchalks



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Five-centric, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 17:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelchalks/pseuds/pastelchalks
Summary: What if instead of a post-apocalyptic future, Five had travelled back in time by accident to August 1943?What if the only way back is to live through a time loop for decades?AN: The title is generic, prone to change soon. Five-Centric





	Lost in Time

What if instead of a post-apocalyptic future, Five had travelled back in time, to August 1943?

 

* * *

 

The boy had initially just popped out of nowhere. They were enjoying another dinner together, sans Abe, when they hear a terrible crackling sound in the hallway. Miss Peregrine was the first to stand up, immediately on edge. She excuses herself from the table, and out of concern for her charges she doesn’t allow any of them to follow. Emma stands up to protest but a stern look from Miss Peregrine is enough for her to huff and sit back down.

 

Miss Peregrine makes her way to the hallway softly clicking the door to the dining room shut behind her. The horrible noise that sounds akin to a bullwhip every few seconds comes from a blue warping ball of light that hovers slightly over the ground. It fluctuates, growing bigger, and she can see through the centre of it. A young boy, around thirteen, drops out of the light and lands hard on the wooden floor.

 

As far as she can tell, he’s out cold.

 

Had he done that himself? He’s dressed in a typical uniform for a schoolboy his age. There’s nothing extraordinary about the boy just from his looks, he’s quite average actually with dark brown hair, fair skinned and slim. She couldn’t quite see his eye colour yet, being that he was currently unconscious. He doesn’t look malicious in any way and chances are, he’s a peculiar child.

 

She wouldn’t leave a single peculiar child in need alone to fend for themselves.

 

“Victor!” Miss Peregrine calls out, voice wavering in confusion as she decides what she’s going to do with the boy. She’d tuck the boy in a bed in one of the spare bedrooms, probably Abe’s old room, and lock it up just to be safe. Victor arrives on the scene, furrowing his eyebrows at the unconscious newcomer on the floor. He doesn’t question it when Miss Peregrine asks him to move him to Abe’s old room. Victor slumps the boy over one shoulder like he would a sack of potatoes.

 

He’s surprised that the boy doesn’t wake up as soon as he sets him down on the bed. Miss Peregrine snatches up the sheets from under him and sets them over the boy, removing his shoes beforehand. She leaves behind a bell and a note in neat cursive that reads ‘ring when awake.’

 

* * *

 

“Who is he?” Emma demands hotly. It’s been two days since he had appeared and it was hardly a secret. He hadn’t woken up yet, but Miss Peregrine knew that he was still alive, she had checked on him every few hours.

 

“Nobody.” She gives Emma a look that Emma falters under but continues to meet the stare level headed.

 

“That’s not what Victor said!” She’s saved from responding to Emma by the familiar chiming of the bell. Emma pulls a face but accepts it, and eagerly follows Miss Peregrine into the room where the boy is staying. Emma grimaces when she notices that it’s Abe’s old room. The thought sours her mood.

 

“Good afternoon, young man. I’m Miss Peregrine. You’re at my home for peculiar children.” The boy sits up in the bed, looking for his blazer and his shoes. He tries to say something but the only sounds that come out are wheezes. Miss Peregrine immediately understands and passes him the large glass of water that had been sitting on the bedside table. He skulls the water down, not caring that it drips down his chin onto his shirt.

 

“What's the date?” Is the first thing he demands, and Emma supposes that he wants to know how long he’s been out. They take careful notice of his American accent.

 

“August 10th, 1943.” Miss Peregrine supplies helpfully. The boy stiffens, and his eyes widen in disbelief.

 

“But that’s impossible. Dad said I couldn’t go backwards - only forwards.” He leaps out of bed and immediately trips onto the floor. “Jesus - I’ve got to get out of here.” He scrambles upwards, he’s starving.

 

“I’m sorry, but what’s going on?” The boy isn’t making any sense whatsoever, and Emma wants to get to the bottom of it.

 

“I shouldn’t be here. Got anything to eat?” Miss Peregrine purses her lips and beckons him forward into the parlour, where she gives him a few slices of bland bread. He grimaces when he notices a few weevils that had been baked throughout the loaf, and picks them out of the piece he’s given.

 

He decides to waste no more time, and attempts to open another rift to pull his body across time, and uses his fingers to softly grab the fabric of time, to tear it open just enough for him to slip through to his own time, except he can’t. He can _feel_ the timestream, but it isn’t opening for him. It’s like standing at the beach and trying to stop a wave with your bare hands. He realises with horror that dad was right.

 

He’s not ready for time travel. The first time he’d time travelled had been a fluke, like shooting a bow and hitting a bullseye, and trying to replicate the motion only to fail over and over.

 

“I think you should stay here until we figure out a way to get you home.” Miss Peregrine suggests, watching the boy struggle to produce anything more than a bright light, and what seems to just be a glowing blue tear in the air. The boy sighs, resigned. He disappears and reappears on the other side of the parlour. At least he can still spatial jump.

 

“I’m gonna be in so much trouble with dad,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for Miss Peregrine’s ears to pick up on.

 

“Is that you peculiarity then?” She asks, and he turns around to face her, confused.

 

“My what?” He responds, incredulous.

 

“Your ability. Teleporting like that, it’s your peculiarity, isn’t it?”The boy silently mouths the word ‘peculiarity’ like he was trying to piece together a mystery in his head.

 

“I guess. We call it a spatial jump where I’m from. I can also time travel - if that’s relevant. It’s how I got here.” He swallows thickly, “And I can’t get back.”

 

“So you lived in a loop then?” That’s the most logical conclusion Miss Peregrine can get to with what information had been provided.

 

“What? No! I’m from 2002. Why do you keep saying ‘peculiar’? And what the hell is a ‘loop’?!”

 

Miss Peregrine squints suspiciously, how does a peculiar boy not know any of the most basic facts within the peculiar community? Miss Peregrine’s home for peculiar children didn’t currently reside in a loop, and as far as she can tell it’s currently 1943.

 

“A Peculiar is somebody born with special abilities, usually hereditary and common within a family. Is your dad peculiar? Maybe he could fetch you if he has the same power.” Miss Peregrine purposely leaves out the explanation of a loop, deeming it far too difficult to explain to a thirteen-year-old, for now.

 

The boy shakes his head vigorously.

 

“Dad isn’t. My siblings are, they’ve got different powers though. Except for Vanya. She’s ordinary.”

 

“Can you just return on your own?” She wasn’t very comfortable letting a thirteen-year-old peculiar out on his own, anything could happen after all, but if that’s what it took for him to be returned to his rightful position, then she’d allow it.

 

“I- I don’t know how.” He admits.

 

“I’m assuming you’ll be here a while.” She mentally prepares herself for a new charge and wonders what the others would think about it.

 

He lets out a bitter laugh, already over the intial panic.

 

“I guess so.”

 

* * *

 

“What’s your name?” A girl with heavily weighted shoes asks him. He hasn’t been given anything to do by Miss Peregrine yet, so he decides that getting acquainted with his new colleagues would be a productive way to be spending his time. He wonders if dad would approve.

 

“Five.” He’s disinterested already, and he also happens to be surrounded by all the other children that live here too. All eleven of them.

 

“What,” Enoch laughs, “was one through four taken?”

 

“Yes, actually.” Five responds, sharply. “My siblings and I are named accordingly with the numbers one through seven. Although they all have taken on other nicknames to make up for an apparent lack of a proper name. Number One, for example, has taken the new name ‘Luther’.”

 

“What about you?” Olive prompts. “What new name have you chosen?”

 

“I haven’t chosen one.” Five scoffs. “I’m above that. Five is fine.” Sympathetic looks pass around a few faces but nobody argues with him. Bronwyn points to the shield on the pocket of his blazer.

 

“What’s that?” Five blinks and looks down at the shield.

 

“That, my friend, is the crest of The Umbrella Academy.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I know, it's short.
> 
> I'll add more chapters later.


End file.
